


Roleplay Rendezvous

by rhys (TeaPlease)



Category: Bill & Ted (Movies), John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, First Date, M/M, Roleplay, Shenanigans, older BnT, slight crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:14:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27220306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaPlease/pseuds/rhys
Summary: Bill is so focused on how cute and flirty and fun his "first date" with Ted is, he fails to use his brain and only thinks with his not-brain, meaning his penis.it's a crack fic and i had fun.
Relationships: John Wick/Bill S. Preston Esq., John Wick/Bill S. Preston Esq/ Ted "Theodore" Logan, Ted "Theodore" Logan/Bill S. Preston Esq.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 35





	Roleplay Rendezvous

**Author's Note:**

> written to help me get over a writing slump. shower thought turned sexual [youtube clickbait title voice]
> 
> some mannerisms slightly exaggerated for fun

They’d picked this really swanky place for date night. It was a nice Autumn evening so it was pitch into black by 8:30 and Bill was definitely enjoying the atmosphere. 

This was a practise they’d gotten caught up in-- something fun, something sexy, and often very cute. Ted and he would talk about how the years had piled on so many memories and been packed with so much affection; something, however, about those ‘firsts’ in a relationship always drove them wild. Thinking about other ways they could have met, other places or situations! Simple fun that grew and grew.

Roleplaying professionals perhaps they were not but all in the name of happy enjoyment, right? So they enjoyed recreating their firsts. 

Things had started with a simple riff back in '99 when Bill asked Ted "come here often babe?" when returning home with a carton of takeout. Now of course things would escelate- the two were in a seriously successful band and unsolidified partnership for reasons quite obvious. 

Unrivaled chemistry made riffing a venture that often ended beautifully. Of course musical jam sessions and plays would translate to a game they easily fell into of faking strangers. 

General Tso was super displeased, left to get cold as Bill sucked Ted dry. (They microwaved it after post coital cuddles wore off, though, along with the brown rice Ted made sure to indicate he wanted.)

Obviously it spiraled.

In the best way.

Pretended they were meeting at a grocery store (then cooked lovely meals and gagged over their choice of wine); pretended Ted was a guy at a skatepark who was showing off sick rollerblade moves (ended in minor disaster, lots of bandaids); pretended they were both exploring Omegle and happenchance met one another (discovered the harrowing truth of video chats, random strangers, and webcam quality). No matter what, they ended up deeply in love and totally enchanted with one another- joking about moving in before returning to their shared home.

On tonight's menu, Bill’s role went as followed: smarmy semi-former Hollywood star now retired-sleazebag goes to an old haunt for a nice meal and a small escape. He’s already made a reservation and smiles amicably with the concierge, touches hands with a subdued flirtation, and then goes down to the bar. 

He doubles back and asks about the chance of getting a room, but waves off the process of the concierge checking through the system. Shoots a winning smile and then jogs on his way. 

It's been a while of course since he had to act so… well.  _ So _ . The self-confident strut and wide grin, pushing a hand through his slicked back curls, he felt so awkward but also hilarious. 

His suit's white with a black around his cuffs and the wings of his collar. He's got a polka dot shirt with a daring v-scoop that Thea recommended because it 'totally brings out your baby blues, Father Unit' (which would make anyone stupidly confident, Thea had a real fashion-passion.)

The years had definitely taken away his toned stomach but he was glad so much love surrounded him. A lot of men his age could get super self conscious but with all the love he gave Ted and his aging body, he received in return. Three-fold considering the girls and their wives.

All that aside, the cotton of the polka dot shirt was merciful. He'd definitely be sporting a baby bump after this date but it had some good stretch.

His curls, though, he doubted they would be able to resist the gel for more than two hours. Hopefully by then, Ted's fingers would be too tangled in his strands for much worry to cross his mind. His stomach flips happily at the thought of what the night had in store.

The plan continues as he moves to the old-school speakeasy lounge. Obviously backlights on the floor in long strips weren't exactly 1920s adjacent or whatever but hey! There was a smoky air quality and a delectable darkness even though the right of the room had stairs that led to the open-air bar. 

He walks to hostess standing in her own private booth. She is bathed in gentle yellow light probably projecting from the floor. Bill wonders if he should install RGBs on the stair steps like he's seen couples on HGTV do so often. But quickly, his mind changes subjects.

"Evening and salutations,” the blonde greets smoothly and tilts his mouth into a genial smile.

Glancing his way, the bartender returns the expression. “Good evening. You must be Mr. Preston for 8:45.” Bill motions to himself with a bowed head and she giggles behind her hand before using the same one, pointing to the back. “You may find your table already set up for you, Mr. Preston. We’ll be right with you, but in the meantime you’re welcome to enjoy the bar- either upstairs or by your appointments.” She lowers her head in a nod and finishes with a charming, “Thank you for choosing to dine with us and ours at the Continental.” 

Posh spot, no doubt. There were a lot of glitzy faces- some famous and some not. He liked that! His springy attitude didn't end once he thanked the hostess, looking around the room with sharp appreciation. He wasn't trying to say he and Ted were famous by any means but your name does get known on the off-chance you get famous two major times in your life. Band gods and then that one time their daughters got to be totally sick and devastate the world with their righteous sound. 

It wasn't to do with being cautious about anything. Counseling taught him that cuckoldry was a kink and not a life sentence; conversations can be had about maybe boning your best friend of some decades and both parties can walk away feeling fine! Their wives totally kinda knew of course, had been the ones to patiently egg them on until the two men themselves risked holding hands. 

But! It wasn't that.  _ But _ it wasn't not not that either. Again, the fantasy of meeting up at a swanky private place as strangers and making what would be three steps away from live in public? Immensely hot.

He goes to the bar. 

Bill isn't a massive fan of alcohol. Maybe has a beer from time to time, drinks fruity numbers on hot days at beach side bars once they drive out there. Obviously not as good with wines- except this pinot grigio the princesses shared one time. Totally delicious! This bar is so fancy he wonders if asking for a Miller would be out of place but he doesn't need to- because there's his scene partner.

Those floor lights make it like a dream. Or a movie shoot. Bill's lip catches between his teeth and he tries to quell the eruption of butterflies.

He's transported to times where he and Ted would be doing photospreads and the way his bandmate was lit so stark and broad with his bright smile or serious, intense face, roused love and lust in equal spades. Loving Ted was easy; being attracted to him, being aroused by him, came like breathing.

Although he'd never seen  _ that _ suit before. Had his lover gone out and legitimately bought an outfit for their play? That was so dedicated it almost made him cry. 

He approached the other man after stifling a giggle and watched as his "stranger" glanced up.

Woah. He looked… Woah. Totally different. 

A bit haggard. Sort of surprised. Cautious. Scruffy. Why did he look scruffy? Ted was so often clean shaven! But he did grow a seriously epic 5 o'clock. It did look very ravishing if Bill could look past his initial shock. He recovered with a lazy smile and said, as smoothly as he could, "Well hello there, fellow bar-user."

The man stares and then his eyes shift down, grunting a quiet "hi."

Bill tried not to giggle again. Strong silent Ted? This is very cute. Very different from their usual play. He might need to spruce up on his shtick if this is what they were getting at! Maybe it was really rattling him because he felt quite… 

Well, it was Ted. Obviously. Looked just like him. But also didn't, also wasn't. But maybe he was just really sinking into the role. He didn't know this stranger- this was a hot man at the bar. He was a hot man at the bar. No big deal.

"Quite a cool establishment here, dude. What brings you in on this fine evening?"

Ted doesn't look up at him but twitches with the question, working up to acknowledging him. Bill waits patiently as the man lifts his head and those beautiful brown eyes, framed by gentle wrinkles and growing dark circles, train on him.

Gravely, he responds, "I wanted a drink."

"I respect a man who knows what he wants." Bill leans against the counter and tries not to preen under the shy attention he's receiving. It reminds him so much of their early days, where every small touch or glance felt like a dramatic revelation. When he would feel Ted looking at him and would want to turn and stare back, to find the termination of this long, long road of unsaid thoughts. To just tell him that, dude, he really really wanted to hold his fucking hand-

and also suck his cock.

Fuck him in his car.

Man, he lives for this play. 

Sidling closer, Bill plays bold and shrugs a shoulder with a coy curl to his lazy smile. "To be transparent, I have, like no idea what to get. I am a man who does  _ not  _ know what he wants." Held his attention and, added, "at least, drink-wise."

Ted's body seems taut. He looks like he's having a personal struggle but then turns so one arm is on the bar top. Lips parting, he speaks in this slow, solid way that this character has. Asks, "what do you like?"

Blue eyes stare back and lets heat slowly edge around the corners. "We've just met but I feel like you can probably peg me, dude."

He sees his interest mirrored and feels his grin grow at the blush that fans beautifully across high cheeks. 

Ted gets him a Moscow Mule which is quite delicious. There were a lot of phrases said, like 'bitters' and 'aerate' and 'highcurl'-- so many things that Ted must have studied up to use for this very date. To complete the full immersion. 

He's got a hand under his chin and doesn't attempt to disguise the love clear on his face as the brunette, still blushing, passes him the drink. "I extend many thanks to you, my most excellent friend." 

Ted grunts and goes to sip his own drink. "Hey!" Bill exclaims and takes Ted's sleeve, whose face freezes with wide eyes. "Dude, cheers," he's laughing. "Can't forget to cheers."

"Oh. Uh… right."

They gently clink glasses. Bill in a fancy rosegold vessel and Ted holding a bezzeled, stout glass and its amber drink. "To strangers and drinks," Ted says quietly and Bill's repetition makes him smile. 

It's so shy, so tentative. Like he's not used to doing it often. A real feat considering Ted was the smiley person of the world! His sweet and tender grin turned Bill into goop; even if there were no chains, he was a total slave to how much of a babe Ted was, especially with that lovely, lovely look.

They've chatted while waiting for their drinks. Ted's in town "revisiting old haunts", "keeping a low profile." They discuss music and different countries they've been to. Bill really does feel like he's meeting someone new again, someone different but so lovable, as Ted finishes a short story about this one concert he went to in Rome that had fucking electro-violins. Obviously hinting to their amazing kids and their awesome ass music, surely. Man did he love this storycrafting. 

“- it didn’t end well. Had to leave during their fourth set.”

“Awe, that blows, man. Sounds like you missed out on a truly spectacular stagecraft.”

Ted grunted, looking askance as if to say ‘not by choice.’ He’s been pretty clammed up. Like talking to people is weird or hard for him; not, you know, feral man goes to speech classes but someone who just doesn’t get out much. It could explain some of the strain in his voice as he answers Bill; he can only imagine some of the difficulty this role is taking to not crack or sound authentic.

"Have any childhood hobbies?" Bill baits after a brief minute of quiet. Ted carefully decorates focaccia bread with a fancy butter spread for him, replying with a faint rumble beforehand. 

"Music." Bill says an 'ah, stellar!' and relishes in the brief flash of pleasure. "Wrestling. Dancing."

"Dancing." Bill whistles. "That's a pretty amazing arrangement of like, interests and skills. What kinda dancing did you do, if you don't mind me, aha, asking and all."

Ted chuckles once as the blonde leans forward to attempt a sexy bite of focaccia. Maintains their stare as his eyes blow wide and he juggles the glob of capers that goes tumbling off his messy piece. His reply his smoothe in the face of Bill's lame blunder. "Ballet."

"Ballet?" 

Ted nods and Bill wiggles his eyebrows with signature (manufactured) sleaze. "Beautiful, dude. Must be suuuuper bendy."

That gets him a Ted giggle, but it's quickly smothered by a generous drink of what Bill can only imagine is hard liquor. 

Wanted to reach out and cradle Ted's cheek, pull them close and kiss him until the man was melting into him. Then they'd laugh as they would nearly topple over.

It was his cue basically. He ran his fingers through his curls again and found it easy to slide in the, "Hey man, want to continue this, like… privately? I think my table's ready."

Surprise makes him look so cute and handsome. It cycles through into suspicion and then a shuddered glee, a hopeful twitch, then a coy final reddening. How did Ted pull off this whole coquettish thing wearing his sharp suit and stubble, Bill could truly barely fathom. 

The other man's lips parted once, closed, and then he adopted a pursed expression and nodded once.

"Excellent."

At the table, Ted looks out of place even though he better fits the atmosphere than Bill. The cocky celeb guise didn't hold up to the adoration battering him in Ted's presence. Now he doted on him like this was a real first date, cracking careful jokes and talking topics between ordering food. The place was stupid expensive-- there were no prices on the menu and apparently it changed everyday. 

Ted explained that the chef was selective in her creations as he bought a carefully constructed sushi roll to his lips. Bill had never thought someone eating fish eggs was so attractive.

He tapped the smoking glass bulb sitting in a porcelain dish, watched its contents pour out. Through its icy steam the diffusion of light in his private booth created a blissful image of a watching Ted.

"How's your food?" Bill smiles at him as he carefully eats the too-pretty platter. 

Ted nods and starts to speak but quickly covers his mouth. It's so sweet and he grins, hopefully not too lecherous, as the other man consciously licks up the sticky rice on his lip. 

He slowly murmured a 'sorry' before bobbing his head. "Good. Very good." He gives Bill a rare smile but it quickly dropped as he shifted in his seat. Eyes scanning the table, Ted's hands were balled on the leather seats. 

Scooching closer, Bill covers the other's hand with his own and squeezes. "Hey, if you're like… concerned about the meal," the man softened under his grip but strangely tensed. He wondered if something was actually wrong. "It's all good. You totally don't have to worry, dude. I'd feel heinously if you were mad." 

Ted didn't look at him for a while but then glanced over. Gave another short nod, breathing through his nose, and Bill got ever closer. 

Worried, he breathed, "Hey. Are you good?"

Maybe he was too deep in, poor thing. Ted seemed so cagey which bothered him, like. A lot obviously, since this was supposed to be fun. And it had been fun! Ted got distant sometimes- lost in thoughts and dreams alike- but he always came back down with a vibrant grin and a carefree laugh. 

Bringing his hand away briefly, he caught the brief movement before the other man had gently recaptured it. Looked at him with somber guilt in his brief upturned lips. "Yes. Sorry."

Bill's eyebrows furrowed as his thumb stroked Ted's. "You sure? We can… I don't know. We can go somewhere else or do something else--"

"It's okay. I'm okay." Ted licked his lips. "Thank you." His voice is wet, thick with an emotion like he was so-- like he was… well,  _ deep _ .

"Alright but just know..." Bill squeezes. "We can leave."

The way a true smile spreads, muscle by muscle, across his Ted's face leaves his stomach in shatters. It does flips like he's experiencing it again. So careful but full of an unimaginable quantity of gentleness and soft promises. Bill wants to kiss him so bad. Wants to hold him and drag him off to the bright lights of the closest boardwalk, get corndogs and bemoan their backs together. 

He's about to offer, too, wants to break this charade but then he's being kissed. And it's hard to fight that. They never break during these things until the last minute, when they have to call bogus and fall into each other laughing at whatever wacky narrative. Bill doesn’t want this date to end. But he also doesn’t want the love of his life to look so haunted. And also doesn’t want to break the kiss because, well, Ted’s a babe. 

His brief facial hair stint didn’t last more than six months in the Summer of ‘07 where he’d cut his hair short after a wicked minigolf accident and grown a long beard. Not long. But thick. Lots of coverage. He’d taken a razor to the thing after deeming the experiment successful and Bill had honestly forgotten what it had felt like to touch him with that hair.

Stubble was different, obviously. Shorter and sharper. It felt really fucking nice in this alien way. The smallest peeks of the current sensations happened in very early mornings. 

Chaste was probably the aim. But Bill deepens it, needs to, because he loves the feeling of the stubble and the clumsy eagerness of the mouth against his. 

He's got his tongue halfway down Ted's mouth when two things occur: 

One: Bill might not be a total detective but it's kind of implied he's a pursuer of the truth. It's sorta in the name. His mind pings him.

He's spent hours kissing Ted. Days, often times, lazy and alone in their apartment as they curled around each other. Pecks and smiles becoming longer and lingering until they were falling off their small twin with the passion. Quick smooches before jumping out on stage or wet, comforting locks at emotional moments.

Bill has accumulated years of kisses from his best friend. They never get old but they're always familiar and exciting. 

It isn't the facial hair's fault that he doesn't recognise this kind of kissing. Ted's audibly gripping the leather couch under him as his other hand twists into Bill's shirt through the open jacket. His mouth is still clumsy and not the typical over-eager sloppy that Bill always giggles into, or the languid sensuality that has his tongue stroking along Bill's, leading him into a dizzying haze of lust.

This is… it's good, it feels great. But it doesn't really feel- well. It doesn't. He just. It's weird.

But he's distracted as, two:

the man tenses rigid under his hands. Bill pulls back and whispers, "Baby, what's up?" before following his line of sight. 

A face mirrors his total confusion because 

Ted stands there looking frazzled and astonished. He's holding a bottle of their favourite fancy wine and has on a pale grey suit and the pink shirt Bill ironed three weeks ago. His face is clean shaven and he can smell the special tulip and treebark scent that a soap brand sent their daughters. 

"Dude," he breathes. "What the flipping fuck?"

There are many responses to the situation. 

One is Bill’s sudden jump away from the Ted that apparently isn’t his. Then the guilt as he’s forced to look back at the accidental imposter whose response was to quickly grab their bar cutlery and brandish the focaccia’s butter knife in a most threatening way. The Ted who is his Ted, he’s shifted to jumping to the booth’s edge, obviously in an effort to align himself with Bill, but also avoid the butter knife.

Bill goes, “woah woah woAH HEY” and Ted’s saying something like, “Is that Evil-goddamn-Me  _ again _ ?” and the other Ted, he’s not breathing a word which is even scarier (and he’s grown dark, focused, which is still super weirdly hot.)

The entire situation is a cluster of reactions which occurs within this mostly confined, isolated booth. With lack of knowing what to do he lunges for the brandished-knifed Ted which seems to be not a good idea because the man had quickly calmed down. So he just slammed into him with the adrenaline momentum of a man turned hero. He may have also yelled during it but in his defense, Ted totally went, “yeah man!” so the enthusiasm egged him on.

Scrambling from his flubber, Bill tries not to look really panicked but obviously he is. Ted, the one who hadn’t been holding a knife, pipes up behind him. “Sorry, I got really caught up in the moment. I’m super pacifistic.” They turn their attention to him and he flushes. “I read it in Meyers-Briggs.”

“Dude,” Bill’s eyebrows crease, confusion palpable. “What’s a Mr. Briggs?”

“This test dude, Bill. A very thorough and quite supreme assessment of one’s personality.” He smiles with obvious pride. “Billie showed me. 

“Oh, is that the test she was studying for?“

“No, dude, a very different topic but I salute you for remembering about that. She fucking aced that shit.”

“Hell yea, daughter supremus! It took me like, three times to ace my times tables, she’s so cool.”

They share a parental bubble of bliss and appreciation. It's popped by the squeak of not-Ted's body against the leather, probably shifting uncomfortably. Ted says a belated "sorry dude" before glancing at Bill for general guidance on how to proceed. 

Protective, the man questions fiercely (and with some shakiness), “Dude, who the hell are you?”

Which he realised is a question he so completely forwent at the bar. They’d done this so many times that the silly preliminaries could be skipped, y’know?

What does skip is the record in his head as the man looked between he and the befuddled Ted and replied, “John.”

The couple echo 'John?' in varying tonalities. 

This John guy nods his head shortly.

Ted, mouth open, looks at Bill who, face screwed, swivels his head to look back at Ted as they both, synchronously, stare at the still pursed lip John. 

The man is the first one to speak with obvious consternation. "I… think I'll go."

"No! You should stay."

"Ted?" Bill is surprised at the outburst but his beautiful partner just waves a hand. At least he looks a little embarrassed at his own insistence. 

For John's part, he just seemed flummoxed but just stayed where he was seated. As they both watched him for his reaction, the blush broke through again along with a slight sweat. 

"Sure."

"Excellent!" They did their signature mini air guitar which John watched with increasing panic. Ted reached forward past Bill and smiled, suppressing a laugh, at how long it took for this John guy to realise he was going for a handshake. "Ted Theodore Logan. Glad to make your acquaintance, Doppelganger."

John mumbled, "pleasure" and looked annoyed at Bill's exaggerated wink. 

"And I'm Bill S. Preston." Pause. "Esquire."

John sighed, "pleasure" and slowly rose from his seat. He motioned for them to get comfortable as he crab shuffles some space away to make more room for the obviously in-love and intrigued couple.

Once he sat again, the man curtly fixes his suit and levels them with a solemn gaze. "John Wick."

They're quiet before Ted gives a big thumbs up. "Nice to meet you, Candleman!"

"Oh because of the wick? Nice one." Bill grins as Ted eats the piece of focaccia bread that, while cooled, remained delicious. 

"Dude, piiiipe."

"Right!?"

John looks uncomfortable but slightly endeared as the other two men begin to speak in a way that he cannot follow. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you read that, no you didn't.  
> i like old men keeping the spice alive, ya feel? so i wrote it. is it weird-- of course. is it bad-- of course. 
> 
> but here we are.
> 
> thanks, love you, bye--  
> xoxo


End file.
